witches have all the fun, don't they?
by cedricsowner
Summary: Silly fun piece with sexual references that don't really require an M rating, but ah, well, better safe than sorry. Written for Scarlet Garter and niagaraweasel. Chance and OFC after a case. Inspired by Scarlet's wonderful story CC, JULIA THE WITCH, AND THE GUNFIGHT AT OK CORRAL. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement. **

_~ heavily inspired by Scarlet Garter, came to life with the help of _

_niagaraweasel, written for both of them ~_

"Drink your tea. It's freshly made, a very special mixture, old family recipe." Chantrelle gave him a smile so bright, it competed with the highly polished porcelain surfaces of her tea set.

Chance had his own experiences with very special mixtures and decided not to test his luck. "So you come from a whole dynasty of witches?", he asked, pointing at a couple of black and white photos behind his now ex-client's back.

Like pretty much 99% of the world's population except Guerrero she reacted on instinct and turned her head into the direction Chance had pointed at. "Yes. Actually my family tree can be traced back to the trials of Salem." She reverently let her gaze wonder from one faded old portrait to the next.

Chance used the opportunity to quickly water the rubber fig. "You're the only one who ever lost her abilities, right? Must be quite hard."

"Better than dead", she sighed and turned back to him. "You've already finished your tea? Oh, that's wonderful!"

Chance wasn't exactly sure what was so wonderful about having finished a cup of tea and decided to slowly prepare his departure. Chantrelle was nice, but there was something fidgety and nervous about her, like a mouse living under the kitchen sink, in constant fear of the cat.

Steering the conversation towards small talk he was just in the process of getting up from the sofa when sudden movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

The rubber fig was moving on his own.

At first he thought he had imagined it, but a second later the plant did it again. And pretty forcefully so – with an audible swish of its leaves it bent over and… caressed the cactus?

Chantrelle's eyes widened and her face turned crimson red. Chance frowned. Puzzled for the moment he let his gaze wander from the rubber fig, which was by now outright sexually harassing the cactus, to Chantrelle and back.

Then the pieces fell into place.

"You didn't try using some sort of love potion on me, did you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about", she answered way too fast.

Chance gave the fig, apparently progressing to heavy petting now, a pointed look.

"Attraction potion. Still had a bottle stashed and didn't want it to go bad…", Chantrelle replied quietly, eyes downcast, her face a pulsating red streetlamp.

Suddenly Chance felt sorry for her. They had been able to save her life, but in the process she had lost her witching abilities. She was now a completely normal woman. He guessed this probably felt to her like it would feel to him if he lost his ability to walk or see. Chance reached out, put two fingers under her chin and slightly tilted it upwards.

"Why did you do that?"

Her eyes grew moist. "Tried so hard flirting with you. Nothing worked."

_Flirting?_ Chance quickly let the past few days roll by his inner eye. When had she tried flirting with him?

Oh. Now that she said it…

"When I'm on a job, I tend to concentrate on the task at hand…"

"You made jokes with Mr. Winston while you blew open a safe with petards!" Chantrelle withdrew her face from his reach. A single tear was rolling down her cheek. "I'm ugly and unattractive, I know." She sobbed, a quiet, choked sound.

"Nobody ever gives me a chance."

She struck exactly the chord that made Chance's protective instincts kick in. When had he ever been able to resist a damsel in distress? And especially one with red hair and a, come to think of it, quite nice figure… how blind had he been?

"Hey…" He got up and crossed the short distance between them with one step. "Everybody deserves a chance…" With nimble fingers he loosened the strict bun she had worn ever since he had first met her.

The dark red knot dissolved into a long ponytail, flowing all the way down her neck, along her collarbone and finally disappeared into her cleavage. Chance couldn't help but keep his eyes trained on the shimmering riband till its intense copper glow met silky white skin and…

"Is that a corset you're wearing?", he asked incredulously. Another instinct apart from his protective one kicked in.

"You were supposed to enjoy it", she replied sheepishly.

The quick unbuttoning of her shirt revealed a rose pink corset with black lace and matching straps that led straight to - garter belts?

"You really don't need that potion", Chance chuckled and breathed a kiss on her lips, first tentatively and then, when she kissed him back, cautiously deeper, with a bit of teeth tugging at her lower lip. Somehow her long corduroy skirt came off on its own. His own shirt followed suit.

Chantrelle couldn't help it – she just had to draw her head back and admire the utterly perfect bare chest he presented to her. In awe she reached out to lightly trace the thin line of golden hair leading all the way down to his belt area. Suddenly shuddering, and surely neither from cold nor repulsion she rose on her tiptoes to get in contact with those gorgeous lips of his again.

When they finally had to break that second kiss to get some air, Chantrelle took hold of his hand and proceeded to lead him out of the living-room. As she turned, he noticed that the corset's laces ended in an oversized black ribbon whose endings bobbed in the cadence of her steps, slightly brushing against her buttocks every time.

No, she definitely needed no potion.

In the bedroom Chance made an interesting discovery. "Handcuffs?" Actually they were pink fuzzy furry handcuffs. On the night table. In plain sight. "You really had plans tonight, hadn't you?"

"Actually they were a gift from my coven… mere decoration so far", she explained, her voice a mixture of shy embarrassment and slight hope. "I should have put them away. The fluffy fur… the color…"

"They are perfect", Chance laughed.

"Perfect for what?" The hopeful note in her voice became more palpable.

"For punishing you, of course. I save your life, you try poisoning me, tsk, tsk…" With one fluid movement he sneaked his arm around her waist, brought her down to the bed and grabbed the cuffs.

Which somehow, inexplicably, then clicked around _his _wrists.

"How in the world...?"

Chantrelle was just as surprised as he was, but she quickly deduced what must have happened. "Well, I _am_ a witch after all…"

"You said you lost your magic abilities!"

"I think it might be that when I'm… uh... excited, they come back for a short moment…"

Chance shook his head in amusement. This was definitely a unique experience. "Where are the keys?"

She needn't say anything. The sheepish look on her face explained it all.

"Give me a pin then, I need to pick that lock." Guerrero would laugh his ass off, should he show up at the office in pink furry cuffs…

"Erm… since I magically put them on you, you can't…"

"Then magically take them off again!"

"As I said, only when I'm…."

"Are you making fun of me?"

Her eyes twinkled and again he knew the answer. _Well, we could ask the neighbor for a bolt cutter. Or... _said the look on her face.

Damsel in distress, huh?

Chuckling, Chance pulled her into another kiss, erasing all thoughts regarding neighbors and tools except the one as old as mankind that he had at the ready… Gently he started exploring what was hiding underneath the rose pink silk. He loved challenges.

_Excited. _

Come the morning, he walked out of the building completely pink cuff free. For the next couple of days he was followed by a purple striped baby raccoon, though, but that's another story.


End file.
